Sponge
by lizzieBdarcy
Summary: Molly's plans for the day have fallen through and now she needs a way to relieve her boredom. What better way then to ask the question on everyone's mind: How does Sherlock Holmes babysit? First Sherlock story, please be gentle One shot I own NOTHING


**I do not own Sherlock. I do not own Molly. The Watson's already claimed Elizabeth**

**so...**

"Sherlock? Sherlock are you-"

The violin coming from 221B answered Molly's unspoken question. She was supposed to be having a girl's day with Mary, nut John caught an emergency case at the clinic and needed her help. As such, Molly Hooper was bored out of her mind.

"Take a peek in on sherlock." Mary suggested when she called a second time to find out if she would be done soon. "I do that and I might end up stealing toes or drinking eyeball tea!" "I hear it's an acquired taste." Mary laughed.

"We actually spend time with each other now. He doped up his best mate repeatedly, what do you think he'd do to me?!"

"Well if you asked nicely-"

"Mary!"

"Aren't you the least bit curious how he's handling Bethie?"

"Weeeeeeell..."

"Don't deny it I know you too well Molls. Now go and make sure Sherlock isn't experimenting on my daughter!"

"Mary I-"

"Please and thank you!"

_Click._

Admittedly, Mary wasn't wrong. Despite Sherlock's obvious discomfort around baby Watson (or "the offspring" as he insisted on referring to Elizabeth) he had repeatedly volunteered to watch the child. He called for Mrs. Hudson on the occasions the baby could not be calmed but other than that no one had a clue what he would want with the little girl.

Naturally this led to the concern that he was performing experiments on her, but when Elizabeth was returned none the worse for wear, spotless and even smiling Mary suggested they not look a gift horse in the mouth. However, to date no one had seen Sherlock with the baby accept on those occasions she was quite literally dropped into his lap.

She went up to the flat, using John's old key to get in, (she couldn't really think of it as _her_ key, despite Sherlock informing her it was for whenever she saw fit to use it. Why he'd given it to her of all people she wasn't sure about either.)and coming inside quietly. If the baby was sleeping she'd hate to wake her and she knew better than to disturb Sherlock while he was playing.

She needn't have worried though, neither child nor man paid any heed to her entrance. Sherlock was waltzing about, playing a piece that sounded somehow familiar and foreign at the same time. His entire focus was on Bethie, eyes glittering and reading in every bit of information the way another man would appraise a fine wine.

His playing was as masterful as ever, but there was a distinctly human element there she had not seen since the Watson wedding.

For her part, the baby seemed just as fixated. Having heard Sherlock's many rants on how the Watson's "coddled" their firstborn, she was shocked to see Bethie nestled in among a mound of what looked to be some kind of animal fur (trust Sherlock to have animal skins lying about, probably for some experiment he had yet to begin) and lazily gnawing on Billy the skull.

Big brown eyes already so warm like her father's stared up at Sherlock from underneath carefully arranged golden curls. Perhaps the oddest thing was that she was wearing an embroidered lavender dress with a velvet top and a gossamer bottom. A band of little flowers went around her waist and while Billy the skull was perhaps not her first choice as a play thing, Bethie was probably one of the cutest things she had ever seen.

But there was no way Mary would have sent a 10 month old all dressed up to Sherlock Holmes' s flat. So then who put her in those clothes?

With a dramatic bow and flourish, Sherlock bowed to his tiny audience member. She smiled gummily and clapped her hands, grinning bigger when he sat down cross-legged in front of her and took his laptop off the coffee table.

"You respond to Tchaikovsky concerto but not Bach... why is that little sponge?" "Cheeto?" "Concerto, yes." "Cheeto!" He smiled, a real, honest to god smile and patted her head.

"Clearly this will take further experimentation for a more definite result."

"Ma-da?"

"Oh yes little sponge, I've plenty new crime scenes for us to study. Mind you, they're barely threes but some of of the tactics used will interest you and after all, we must ease you in-"

"Sherlock!"

Man and baby looked up with the same startled expression.

"Molly. Ever the mouse creeping about I see."

Being used to his antics, Molly simply rolled her eyes.

"If you didn't want me coming in at my leisure you shouldn't have given me a key."

"Evidently a situation I will have to rectify."

"Then don't expect Mr. Ruther's foot."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I very much would. Now why are you showing our niece crime scene photos? And tell me you haven't taught her how to say Murder. You promised you would wait until after her second birthday." He sighed and shifted Billy the skull to a dry spot for Bethie to chew on.

"First, she is _your_ niece. She is _my_ god-daughter. And as there is no familial bond in the way of our genetics, calling her your niece makes no sense whatsoever. "

"So you've told me. What are you doing?"

"Simply spending time with my goddaughter."

"Sherlock."

"It's not a crime. I ought to know-"

"Sherlock!"

"Ma-da." Bethie provided helpfully, receiving an infamous Holmes glare for her trouble. "Murder huh? Thank you Bethie. " she cooed, playing with the baby's hands. "Her name is Elizabeth! Why you all persist in addressing her by that idiotic moniker is beyond me." He snapped, folding his arms. "Why you persist in arguing about it like a petulant child is beyond me." She replied calmly.

"I believe I liked you better without a spine mouse."

She shrugged and picked Elizabeth up.

"Little steps sherlock. Now tell me what you were doing."

"If you can't figure it out on your own-"

"But then you couldn't gloat about explaining it. Look, Sherlock.."

Hesitantly she reached over and took his hand.

"I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. I didn't tell anyone while you were gone and this can stay between us too."

On another man, she might have called it nervousness. On sherlock... it was fear. The eyes hardening, his lips pursing tight.

"I've... research shows that children are most able to grasp difficult concepts between birth and the age of five. Languages, formulas, equations, instruments-"

"You're teaching Bethie- Elizabeth-" she corrected at his glare, "all these? Because she's in her formative years, you think you can teach her these skills right?"

"I am attempting to, yes."

She considered this and then handed him Elizabeth.

"What-"

"If I'm going to help you, I need to your progress so far."

"I didn't-"

"This is a wonderful idea, I really think you've got something! "

She pulled up the page he'd been working on, so intrigued by his experiments she didn't feel his gaze on her.

"You stopped playing audio's with russian, why?"

"It was too harsh a sounding language. With her ears still developing I determined it did more harm than good for little sponge. And.. and anyway she wouldn't stop crying." He finished in a mumble, hugging Elizabeth closer.

"Little sponge? Sherlock you nick-named Bethie!" She beamed.

"I did no such thing!"

"Yes you did, you call her little sponge. That's a nickname."

"Don't be stupid. It is a common practice during a case-study to give the subject a means of identification other than their name."

She smiled in a way that made his chest clench and went back to reading through the notes. "That's only if the results are going to be published."

"Do you not see the irony of-"

"She's a little sponge. Soaking up information and forever taking in more. It's adorable."

"Yes, well... good. If you're going to assist me, then you will need to be comfortable using the subject's I. D." He replied stiffly. She smiled at him again.

"Oh no, we're partners. I care for her just as much as you do, and I want to see how much she can learn."

"It's not a question of what she can learn but what we will teach her Molly Hooper. "

"She looks so peaceful doesn't she?"

"She's an infant, she has no notions of peace or-"

"Bah humbug to you too."

He chose to ignore her attempt at humor and went back to the main room. Molly trailed after, then settled in beside him on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her. Elizabeth was comfortably tucked away for a nap and she was feeling a little sleepy herself.

"Will you tell me why you changed her clothes?" She yawned. He'd already steepled his fingers, a classic mind palace pose so she was surprised when he answered her.

"If she will be accompanying me to the theatre, orchestra or opera it's better she be used to the dress code now. She can't attend in her playthings and jumper, that would be ridiculous. "

"Oh yes of course." She murmured, lips twitching.

"You find something amusing."

"No I'm not- I'm not laughing at you Sherlock." She assured him, catching the wariness in his tone.

"I just think you're incredibly sweet without realizing it."

"This is not done to be _sweet_. I'm simply bettering her mind through my experiments. And now you will answer a question for me."

"Of course."

"Why are you helping me?"

"What?"

"Why. Are. You. Helping. Me." He rumbled.

"I don't understand. "

"Really Molly-"

"No, I mean why shouldn't I help you? She looked so happy listening to you play and spending time with her uncle-"

"God father. "

"UNCLE Sherlock, whom she loves very much that's plain to see. And you're teaching her so much.. it's fantastic."

He tilted his head, mimicking her as she licked her lips.

"You do me too much credit. I'm not the sort of man you think I-"

"Do shut up."

He blinked and it was all she could do not to laugh. She had surprised him, caught the great Sherlock Holmes off guard. That was his line and they both knew it.

"I'm not that woman with a schoolgirl crush anymore Sherlock. You are selfish, petulant, moody and a regular arse. But you also gave everything to keep the ones who counted safe. You look after Mrs. Hudson as much as she does you. You're brilliant and you have it in you to care deeply." He blinked again, then tugged her feet into his lap and began to rub.

"Sherlock wha-"

"We've only five years, we need to teach her as much as possible... do you have any ideas Molly?" He cut in, continuing to rub absentmindedly.

"Um... well. The romance languages might- might, um-"

"Yes?"

"She might uh.. enjoy.. enjoy those mo-more! More."

She was positive she was bright red and prayed he hadn't heard the little sigh and moan she let out when he ran his thumb up her arch. If he noticed her embarrassment, he didn't mention it.

"I thought so too. She likes serbian well enough but we could begin french during her next session- stop tensing Molly you defeat the purpose of the massage."he scolded. "Right. Sorry."

As far as days with Sherlock Holmes went, this had to be one of the weirder ones. Since the fall and her break up with Tom, they were amiable. She would even consider them friends. Which is not to say he didn't insult, manipulate or threaten to get his way, she just didn't let him get away with it like she would have before. They were content. Comfortable even. Of course that meant Sherlock was probably about to do something to upset the apple cart. Or maybe just skip to setting the whole thing on fire...

"Molly!"

"Sorry, what?"

"You weren't listening. I asked if there was a particular novel you'd want to read to Elizabeth. "

"Um.. lemme think about it. We don't wanna move too fast, being the only five year old on the block who can read Austen or Dodge could make things a tad difficult. "She joked. In response his hands stopped moving.

"In what way?"

Thrown by the sudden tension in the air, the old stammering Molly made an appearance.

"I... I just-just meant that, that um.. it, um.. could get lonely-"

"She would never be lonely I won't allow it!"

"Sherlock I only meant-"

"Oh I know what you meant Molly. You meant that her intelligence, in comparison to all the little brats she'll be forced to associate with will make her some sort of social outcast. That because she'll be different, the very thing that makes her special now will turn her into some kind of... some kind of freak!"

"Sherlock I didn't _say_ th-"

"Well let me tell you something Molly Hooper, she is MY god daughter and I will not let that happen. I'll take her to the park and teach her about bees and when we get ice cream she will know the exact temperature a person can die of hypothermia and we'll play deductions and when she comes to me crying because those boring idiots have hurt her with their lack of understanding I will teach her how to show every single ONE of those miserable wretches and their goldfish parents that she isn't alone. She will always have me looking after her and WE AREN'T FREAKS!" He finished in a roar.

For a moment, it was quiet. Nothing but the drip of the tap in the kitchen, the steady ticking of the clock. His chest was heaving, lips curled in a snarl and eyes blazing. This beast, the thing that made his mind run constantly whirring and zipping about was there, looking back at her.

And then their niece broke the spell, her faint whimpers cutting through the air.

"I've woken her."

"Rock her awhile, she'll nod right off again."

He nodded curtly and stalked out, leaving her alone on the couch.

She'd been so blind, how could she not have seen what this really was about? Sherlock was using this time to figure out the puzzle that was his goddaughter. Bethie loved him unconditionally and he didn't know why. He didn't understand children, how to comfort them as they cried or relate to their made up stories. And he was afraid this little girl who he was already falling for would realize that. Would realize her uncle was different and think he was weird.

That he was a freak.

When he came back, she sat up, put her feet on the floor.

"You're still here." It was an accusation.

"Of course I am."

"Yes well, you can leave now."

"Stop it."

He rolled his eyes, smiling coldly.

"Oh Molly, tell me we aren't going down memory lane. I'd have to shoot up for it to be a really moving experience. "

"I SAID stop it."

Surprisingly, he did and waited for her to say her piece

"I know why you're doing all this. And you can be a git all you want about it but that doesn't mean jack to me. You are NOT a freak. And you will never be alone, not ever again. You've got me and John and Mary and Greg and Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson and we aren't going anywhere. So don't you dare for a moment cluster us into the same group as the ones who will never understand... they can't. We can't always, but we'll try everyday. Your gifts, they're beautiful and unique and endlessly fascinating. If you call yourself a freak again I will go to the morgue, retrieve my best scalpel and stab you. Is that quite clear?"

"Yes Molly."

"Good. Now-"

It was not in the Holmes nature to remain passive for long, so at the very least she thought he would bolt or start in on how stupid her emotional outburst had been. The last thing she expected was for him to kiss her.

So of course he did exactly that.

Without so much as a "stop talking" or even a glancing insult about her jumper he was giving her a good and proper snogging. Poor Molly was so surprised she became convinced this was (yet another) of her daydreams and decided to give as good as she got before someone snapped her out of it.

As such there was a lot of hair tugging and nipping on her part and a surprising amount of tongue play and groaning on his part before a lack of oxygen forced them to separate begrudgingly.

"I..."

"That was..."

"Mmmm." He growled, making her laugh.

"Yeah that." She giggled.

"I... am sorry." He told her hoarsely.

The smile faded as pain choked at her throat. Of course he would regret it.

"That's um... that's alright. Everyone makes mistakes, doing things on impulse-"

"Our first kiss ought to have been a chaste one, John told me-"

"Wait, _first_ kiss? As in more to follow?"

"You think it was a mistake?"

"Yes if you would not be adverse to-"

"No I don't think it was mistake I-"

The confused arguing was cut off with another kiss and a tender smile on Sherlock's face.

_"Do shut up."_

As he had resumed his kisses and had now moved on to running his hands over her Molly decided telling him that statement was "a bit not good" could wait. Unfortunately, Elizabeth decided their other activities could wait as well and chose that moment to wake up wailing.

"The baby, we- Bethie-"

"Has terrible timing."

"Sherlock one of us has to get her- no biting! "

"The definition of biting differs from nibbling, did you know that?"

"She's awake-"

"I don't do domestics."

"We're taking turns you tosser."

A smile, light pecks with noses touching.

"I believe it's your turn then Miss Hooper."

"This conversation is not over Mr. Holmes. "

"I look forward to its continuation. "

She grinned and hurried for his room, stopping only when he cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

"Alone... I. I would find it acceptable with.. with you Mouse."

It was a wonder her face didn't split in half she was smiling so big. Of course there would have to be rules set and reminders that he couldn't keep breaking into her flat and they would have to have a _very_ long talk but...

Molly "mouse" Hooper. Involved with Sherlock bloody Holmes.

Elizabeth didn't care why her aunt was grinning like some maniacal villain. She just wanted her bottle and a good cuddle. When Molly _finally_ picked her up she received a pat on the cheek in approval. Molly beamed.

"That's right little sponge. Never alone again."

**My first Sherlock fic is complete! Opinions? Prompts you'd like to see? If you think I did well, shoot me a couple ideas. I might just bring em to life for you! (p.s. there may or may not be behind the scenes writing of Sherlock thinking they were dating along while Molly had no clue hehehe… just a little tidbit you may find interesting)**


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